


nothing gold can stay

by sehyxn



Series: forgotten city [1]
Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, happy new year, i can't believe i'm starting off the year with an angst fic, ngl i cried while writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sehyxn/pseuds/sehyxn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hakyeon watches, helplessly, as the city crumbles around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing gold can stay

**Author's Note:**

> first fic of the year and it's vixx angst. way to go norika  
> this is my first series, so i hope it turns out alright, and that i have enough time this year to write and update regularly! you can yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/hyunglost) if i don't, or leave me questions on my [ask](https://ask.fm/hyunglost). or you can comment here. please let me know what you think and i hope you enjoy the fic!!

 

He watches as the snow falls in a blur, occasionally streaking against the window, forming patterns on the glass. Outside, the little space they call their front yard is blanketed in a layer of white, fluffy snow, which flies up in little flurries as Hongbin flops onto his back. Wonshik trips and falls onto him and they roll around in the snow together, and then suddenly he’s there too, sitting on the newly painted swing, watching Jaehwan and Sanghyuk make snow angels, throwing clumps of snow at Taekwoon and laughing and—

—and then the scrape of a chair’s legs against wood snaps him out of the reverie, the boys disappearing as the memory fades away, the front yard melting back into the dreary sight he’s been staring at for hours. The ground is dry and the trees are bare and the swing is rickety, its paint faded and chipped. The window he’s staring through is covered with a layer of grime and he belatedly realises that it’s ajar, the frigid winter cold biting into his fingers.

There’s no one outside. Hakyeon blinks, slowly, once, twice. He doesn’t want to move, partly because his joints are stiff and his limbs are weak, and partly because he wants to keep watch until the boys return. Wants to wait until he knows for sure that they’re safe. But he’s also curious, so he tears his gaze away from the window and fixes it on the source of the noise.

It’s Taekwoon, staring straight at him from across the table, his face betraying no shred of emotion. Hakyeon doesn’t understand, so he doesn’t say anything, simply stares blankly back.

The silence is stifling, and Hakyeon finally snaps, offers up a disgruntled “what?”, voice raspy from disuse. Taekwoon continues to stare at him, unblinking, until Hakyeon finally averts his gaze, unable to bear it any longer. He studies the tabletop instead, counting every scratch.

He’s gotten to the fifty-seventh one when Taekwoon takes his hand, tugging it insistently, and Hakyeon looks up at him confusedly, not having realised that he’d stood up. Taekwoon tugs again, and Hakyeon shakes his head forlornly.

“I can’t, Taekwoon, I have to wait for them to return,” he murmurs, looking up into Taekwoon’s eyes, searching for the barest shred of agreement. But Taekwoon’s eyes are unwavering, unceding, and Hakyeon slumps back into his chair.

It’s futile. He knows that, doesn’t need Taekwoon to remind him. But he’s always been stubborn, always been unwilling to give up, always cared about others a little too much for his own good. Always clings to the very last strand of hope, even when it frays in his hands and threatens to give way. And now, even when the hours melt into days and months and time becomes unquantifiable, he can't allow himself to stop hoping. That would mean moving on without them, and it's too definite, feels too much like admitting that they're never coming back. That he'll never see them again.

God, he misses them. Misses Jaehwan's boisterous laugh, misses Wonshik's terrible fashion sense, misses Hongbin's sass and even Sanghyuk's constant teasing. But most of all, he misses Taekwoon's smile, previously rare, now nonexistent.

He can't help but wish the city could go back to how it used to be, before it fell to ruins and people started disappearing into thin air, out of sight one moment and then gone forever.

Hakyeon had always considered himself lucky to have a large circle of friends, for it had meant that he'd always have someone to share a morning coffee with, always have someone to cycle along the river with when the house got too stifling, always have someone to talk to when the nights got lonely. But it had soon become more of a curse than a blessing, for he'd had to watch as his friends disappeared, one by one, until he was the only one left.

The first disappearance still has him jolting awake in the middle of the night, screams lodged in his throat and cold sweat beading at his hairline. He'd been walking down the street with Eunji, on the way home from the cinema. She'd taken a quick detour to buy snacks and strawberry milk, offering up a sheepish grin and telling Hakyeon to wait for her at the intersection. He'd grumbled, scrunching up his nose, but he'd complied all the same, and she'd yelled "Be right back!" and turned into a side street.

She never returned, and Hakyeon no longer remembers what movie they'd watched or what she'd been wearing or what he'd said to her before she left, but he remembers standing there for hours and hours. Remembers the suffocating fear, his anxiety steadily growing as the number of passers-by dwindled till he'd been standing alone in the dark, silent street, with only his fear to keep him company. He'd heard of people disappearing but he'd never thought it'd be anyone he knew, had never thought it would hit so close to home, and his mind had been a mess of _where is she why is this happening is she safe is she hurt what should i do please let her come back_. He'd sunk down into a crouch when his legs grew tired, hugging his knees to his chest and crying in shallow, shaky breaths, until Taekwoon came to look for him, to piggyback him home and tuck him into bed.

He'd woken up the next day to a voicemail from a distraught Seyong, telling him that Chaejin had disappeared from his bed in the middle of the night, and a slow realisation had dawned on Hakyeon that the nightmare was only just beginning.

Hongbin had disappeared barely a week later. He'd been in the garden taking photos of budding flowers with Hakyeon watching from the living room window, smiling proudly and nodding in approval whenever Hongbin showed him the photos he'd taken. And when Jaehwan had yelled for Hakyeon from the kitchen, Hakyeon had turned around, for only the briefest of moments. But by the time he'd turned back, Hongbin was long gone, his camera sitting sadly in the middle of the garden, the only trace of him having been in the garden at all.

Hakyeon had rushed out, panic bubbling in his chest as he screamed for Hongbin. When the search had turned up empty, he’d torn through the house, frantically flinging open doors and checking every corner until Taekwoon had yanked him into a bone-crushing hug, trapping him in his embrace until the strength bled out of him and he fell limp in his arms.

“Why,” he’d wailed, his voice punctuated by hiccuping sobs, “why Hongbin.”

Surprisingly, it'd been Sanghyuk who'd comforted him the most. He'd sat down next to him on the couch and pulled him into an awkward but strangely warm hug, whispered gentle words of comfort and hope, with all the childlike naivety of a young boy. He'd told him to believe that Hongbin would come back one day, because he loved them and they loved him, and Hakyeon had believed it.

But Sanghyuk had disappeared too, one month later, and Hakyeon had sunk back into despair upon seeing two empty beds every morning.

Summer had brought two policemen who detained Wonshik for suspicion of perpetrating the disappearances, and none of them could do anything to stop it. Autumn's maple leaves had significantly fewer people to view them, and by winter there was barely anyone left. The streets were as barren as the trees that flanked them, and all Hakyeon could do was watch through the windows as the snow fell and melted and fell again.

He doesn't register the wetness staining his cheeks until Taekwoon pulls him into a hug, fingers tangling in his hair and holding him close. Everything comes rushing out of him in stuttering sobs, and he clutches Taekwoon's shirt, buries his face in his shoulder, and cries.

He cries for the friends he's lost, for the life he once had, for the city that used to be whole but now lies in pieces, shattered fragments of its former self. He cries for all the words he'll never get to say, for all the things he should've done while he still could, for all the happy memories that will soon fade with the passing of time.

And when he’s cried his throat raw, he lets himself sink into Taekwoon's broad chest and strong arms. Lets himself soak in Taekwoon’s warmth, breathe in Taekwoon’s scent. Taekwoon smells of morning dew and freshly washed laundry. Smells of home.

It’s only when he feels himself losing his balance that he realises Taekwoon’s disappearing from beneath him, a memory fading back into the recesses of his mind.

“No, no, don’t go,” he sobs, voice cracking, “please, Taekwoon, don’t go, _don’t leave me!_ "

Panicking, he reaches up in a frenzy to touch Taekwoon’s face, fingertips skimming over his skin, trying to memorise the contours and angles of Jung Taekwoon. He traces the curve of his eyebrows, brushes over the slope of his cheekbones, feels the stickiness of sweat and the slight bump of a pimple just shy of swelling.

He barely gets to his jaw before he’s grasping thin air.

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon whimpers, voice raw and quaking, “Taekwoon, don't go…”

But Taekwoon is long gone, and all Hakyeon’s left with is a painfully empty house.


End file.
